Lucy took it from him and turned it over, studying it. It seemed to be a rather old Massachusetts driver’s license, from the days before holograms and digital photos, when they simply laminated a cardboard license with plastic. The name was gone, but the photo was still quite clear. In fact, Lucy realized, the face on the license looked a lot like Tommy Stanton. But it couldn’t be him, because his license would be a freshly minted Maine license with a black electromagnetic strip on the back. Then she remembered the wallet and felt for a moment as if Bill had slipped an ice cube down her back. The face looking up at her through the cloudy plastic was the face of the homeless man. A man who bore a very strong resemblance to Tommy Stanton.

Chapter 16

As she studied the tattered bit of plastic and cardboard Lucy’s thoughts suddenly came into focus. She’d suspected all along that the homeless man was connected with Mimi and his strong resemblance to Tommy certainly seemed to confirm it. It also served to deny Fred’s assertion that Mimi had no family. She did have a family, but not, perhaps, a family she wanted to acknowledge. Perhaps a very troubled family, if the homeless man was any indication. A family that both Mimi and the homeless man had left behind.

Lucy carried the card over to the kitchen sink and held it under the bright down-light there, but the name and address remained illegible. The license number, however, was faintly discernible and Lucy eagerly wrote it down. First thing tomorrow she’d call the Massachusetts Registry of Motor Vehicles and get the man’s identity. She would finally fill in the who in her story.

“Why exactly do you want this information?” inquired the voice on the other end of the line, a voice with a strong Boston accent.

“Like I said,” Lucy began, for the umpteenth time, “I’m a reporter with the Pennysaver newspaper in Tinker’s Cove, Maine. A homeless man was recently found dead here and I’m trying to identify him from a fragment of his driver’s license. All I have is the number and his photo.”

“What happened to the card?” asked the voice, pronouncing card without the r. Cahd.

“Actually, my dog ate it.”

“They’re plastic. That shouldn’t hurt it.”

Lucy rolled her eyes and leaned her elbows on her desk. There was no point in losing patience with the clerk, not if she wanted her help. All she could do was hope to interest her in the story. “It’s one of the old paper ones with a laminated coating.”

“Really? That’s before my time.”

“The dog’s teeth did some damage.”

“My dog ate my wedding ring but she pooped it out.” The voice paused. “I made my husband buy me a new one.”